


defender of man

by mesmin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arker!Lexa, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn Clexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6274726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesmin/pseuds/mesmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexandria Woods, the last surviving member of Polaris, lives with the ones who sentenced her people to death and is sent to the ground, the place she's been dreaming of for a very long time.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Lexa is from the Ark and foolishly vowed to protect Clarke Griffin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	defender of man

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's been in my head for a long time. I became fascinated with Lexa's character; especially with the notion that if she wasn't Heda and was with the 100(plus Bellamy), the narrative would be completely different.
> 
> I haven't written anything in the past few years that wasn't an article for scientific journals or lab reports, so bear with me. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Fuck 3x07. I'll just make my own parallel universe where Lexa doesn't stupidly get the Tara Treatment.

 

> “Sometimes you have to do something ugly so that something beautiful can grow.” ― Cedric Nye, 'Jango's Anthem'

 

He stares at the blue planet in wonder, frail fingers tracing the coastlines and thinking of trees. He imagines a slight ocean breeze blowing through his hair, the saltiness so strong that it sits on his tongue. But the air in his cabin is still and stale. The sand between his toes is metal so cold it pierces through thick wool socks that managed to survive nearly three generations. The temperature has been decreased to -5°C to redirect energy to the Factory Station for the next two years.

 

It has been 79 years since his father’s father looked through the same window and watched as mankind destroyed itself. Seventy-nine years since twelve nations, in an act of unprecedented unity, decided to work together in order to obtain the peace lost on the ground in space.

 

He sighs wearily, forcing a foot inside slightly-too-small boots.

 

Later, there will be yet another Council meeting to discuss the fate of Polaris. He knew, as Chancellor of the Ark, that the independently governed station was able to join with the rest due to its unmatched technology and the minds on-board. Plus, it must have been hard for the Alpha Station to think about blowing Polaris out of the sky after seeing the world on fire.

 

Too much destruction in one day.

 

But it is 79 years later.

 

The Ark carries 2,658 souls on-board, so far. There are enough rations for 2,000 residents to have a daily calorie intake of 1500; the Agro Station production needs to be increased. The carbon dioxide removal system is always in need of repairs—something is always in need of fixing.

 

Polaris has 128 individuals, soon to be 129— the Commander’s wife pregnant with their first child. He thinks that whatever it is that they do over there, it sure is working for them. He hasn’t received reports of spacewalks happening to salvage for materials. They even hand over food and supplies and lend mechanics from time to time. “A sign of good faith,” Commander Woods once said to him with that self-righteous smirk of his.

 

He leaves his living quarters, absent-mindedly accepting a kiss from his wife as she pats the pin on his chest. He likes to think that she does it lovingly, a gentle reminder that she is proud of him. But he knows she does it as if to say “Take care of us”.

 

***

He looks around at the seven stern faces staring back at him, a reflection of his own. With a deep breath, he steels his resolve. “We are here to talk about survival—our survival,” he states, pausing to straighten his already perfectly placed tablet, “Many are hungry. To be frank, we are struggling here. We have a shortage on rations and medicine. We just don’t have enough of anything.”

 

The Council knows this. Decades ago, the One Child Policy was put into effect to curtail this very situation. A few years back, one of the hardest things he had to do as Chancellor was cut rations in certain sections. He had to decide which of his people was deserving of a proper meal and which were expendable.

 

“Then, Chancellor, we need to start discussions on extreme measures that we need to—“

 

“No, Councilor Jaha,” he interrupts, silencing the youngest member of his Council, “I will not change the current policy on crimes and capital punishment. Resources are scarce, but not dire enough for such action. Perhaps when my time in this office has passed, you can personally see to it that this conversation is revisited.”

 

He gives Thelonious Jaha a brittle grin. He has no doubt that Jaha will take his seat. The man has an unrelenting drive towards the betterment of the people, which is why he has a seat at this table. But unlike the young man, there are still some lines he will never cross.

 

“However, I will begin talks with Commander Woods,” he informs the strong-willed Councilor. “Polaris will provide us with their technology. They will give us the resources we need. It will happen, one way or the other.”

 

It is one of the last things he does as Chancellor.

***

“So this is it, huh?” Commander Edward Woods said with a mirthless smile, standing behind his seven-year-old daughter with gentle hands wrapped around her shoulders, “Here to take the last thing you can take from Polaris.”

 

It took seven years, four months, two weeks, and five days to complete the systemic destruction of Polaris. It began with ‘provide the Ark with rations for a thousand souls per month or we will target your solar panels’. Later, it was clothing and supplies and machines and pods and people who came to help that were then executed.

 

Always with the threat to destroy.

 

Until, there was nothing left but nineteen souls onboard who survived with the bare necessities needed to live out the rest of their lives slowly withering away in a cold, empty metal box.

 

The Chancellor stands in front of the man he has sentenced to death seven years ago. Today, Polaris will separate from the Ark and eighteen people will be left to die. The only child of Polaris will live. The only act of mercy he allowed himself. He wants to say that he is sorry it has come to this. He wants to yell at this man and ask why. Why didn’t Polaris join the Ark? Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. Instead he asks, “What’s her name?”

 

“Alexandria,” Woods replies with that annoying smirk of his.

 

“Defender of man,” states the Chancellor, “How…fitting.”

 

“What can I say? I have a thing for dramatics,” Woods tells him before dropping to his knees, turning his daughter to face him. He presses his forehead against hers, caressing the back of her neck with his thumb, staring at the same intelligent green eyes that belonged to his wife. “Do not be afraid, Lexa,” says Woods, his voice strong and unwavering. “Use your head and be strong. I will always be with you.”

 

He places a final kiss on her forehead before standing tall. He doesn’t look away from his baby girl’s sad eyes. He almost smiles at the way she refuses to cry.

 

His strong Tiny Commander.

 

He unzips his gray jacket and wraps it around her incredibly small, lanky frame. He watches her toy with the frayed COMMANDER patch and swallows down the sorrow he feels but refuses to acknowledge. He switches his gaze to meet the eyes of the man who has killed his wife, his people, and will raise his daughter.

 

As his final moments approaches, he lets himself memorize the image of his young daughter. She stands tall, all wobbly knees and long limbs drowned in his officer jacket. In her hands are the straps of a bulging bag she had to drag, unable to carry its hefty weight. Her dark ash-brown hair, as wild and unruly as his, framed her smudged rosy cheeks, still dirtied from when she hid in the vents hours ago.

 

“Until next time, Tiny Commander.”

 

The Chancellor watches the man walk away from his daughter. He wonders what made it all worthwhile. “What _were_ you doing in Polaris?” he asks.

 

Woods turns with that smug grin of his, “Ensuring the survival of mankind, of course.” He raises a hand and gives a small wave. It’s his final farewell as he crosses the airlock into Polaris to live out the rest of his short life.

 

When it’s all said and done, Polaris disengages from the Ark without fanfare; just him, the members of his Council, Chief Engineer Sinclair, and little Alexandria Woods silently watching through the glass as it drifts away.

 

He places an unsure hand on the shoulder of the last surviving member of Polaris. “In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground,” he recites, his tone reverent and uncharacteristically soft. He took care of his people, had done what was best for the Ark. “May we meet again.”

 

He reaches down and takes the girl’s small hand with an uncertain hold, using the other to carry the bag that holds everything she has left. Perhaps he ensured her survival as his penance. He bargained for her life so that every time he stares at those lonely (but never afraid) green eyes, he never forgets that he killed 128 innocent people, that it is because of him this girl is an orphan. It is up to him now—he will take care of her.

 

A week later, he will face a coup. He will no longer be Chancellor and as he predicted a little over seven years ago, the bold Thelonious Jaha with his strong convictions and his infallible plans will take his seat. Days after the new Chancellor places new policies into effect, he is brought into an airlock chamber and floated into open space. His last image is of young Lexa, wrapped in that damn jacket of hers which reached past her knees. He remembers helping her roll up the sleeves.

 

He will stare at those green eyes of hers before his body is forcefully sucked into endless darkness and thinks wistfully of coastlines and trees.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward: meaning ‘defender/guardian of prosperity’  
> Alexandria: meaning 'defender of man'
> 
> Prologue  
> or: how it all began
> 
> title from 'The Scientist' by Coldplay

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos if you like it.  
> Comment to let your thoughts be known.


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